


Dark Alleys

by Cimila



Series: Stalion Week [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Underage Sex, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Manipulation, Memory Loss, Mental Instability, Nogitsune Stiles, Nogitsune Trauma, Post season 3a, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Questionable Mental Health, Stalion Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cimila/pseuds/Cimila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles keeps losing bits and pieces of time and coming back to himself in time to run into Deucalion, who's still in Beacon Hills for what Stiles assumes can only be nefarious reasons. He's pretty sure it's Deucalions fault he's losing time, and he's not going to stop until he finds out why, and hopefully puts a stop to it. Post 3A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Alleys

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to do Stalion week, and then I couldn't stop thinking about the 'Demon Wolf' playing with Void!Stiles. In for a penny, I guess. Sorry for any typos, was trying to get this done before midnight, but it's now past twelve and, as such, the second of December. Whoops. More characters and probably more tags to be added as I write, because I only have a vague idea of where this is going, and that idea is back alley sex, so...

They’d all thought – assumed, really, and you know what they say about assuming – that Deucalion had left town. It was the only logical assumption; alone, outmatched and given a second chance, what else would the alpha wolf do but retreat? Stiles first discovers the mistake when he’s wandering the shadier areas of town, not quite sure how he got there, missing small enough chunks of memory that he dismisses it at first. After all, he’d probably just spaced out, right? Been too busy inside his head to really pay attention to what’s going on outside of it, not like it’s the first time. 

Before he can turn around and head back to the safer parts of Beacon Hills there’s a flash of red in the darkness of an alley, and Stiles pauses. He knows he should call someone, Scott or Derek, because if they’ve got another alpha werewolf running around they all need to know. They won’t survive losing anyone else, not now, with their wounds from the alpha pack wide open. He reaches for his phone as footsteps start towards him, but pauses just as his hand wraps around it. 

“ _Deucalion_?” Stiles knows his mouth is hanging open a bit too much to be polite but, seriously? Are they going to have to literally run him out of town?

“Didn’t Scott tell you to get the hell out of town?” He demands, drawing his phone from his pocket because, yeah, someone needs to know that the self proclaimed _‘demon wolf’_ was still lurking around. In dark, creepy alleys which, wasn't that a little passé for someone like Deucalion? Then again, he was apparently a narcissistic psycho, so old-school, over used big bad clichés probably worked for him. 

“The only stipulation for my continued life and freedom was that I returned to how I was before…” He pauses for a moment, hand flexing as if to fiddle with a cane that was no longer there, “before the Alpha Pack was formed.” He smiled at Stiles, who had to stop himself from edging away slightly. There was something off with that smile, something fundamental missing that made Stiles skin crawl when he looked at it.

“How’s that working for you?” Deucalion shrugged slightly, taking a step closer to Stiles. The teen locked his knees so he didn’t start backing away; you had to stand your ground, no matter that the werewolf could probably smell the fear radiating off his tense form.

“It’s harder than I had anticipated, actually.” He took a few more slow steps forward. 

“So I’ve made the decision to stay here, in Beacon Hills, in order to observe a true alpha and his pack, to see if I can understand what it is to be a peaceful visionary again.” There’s something about the twist of his lips that undermines the sincerity in his voice. Stiles nods, smacking his lips as he tries to think of something to say. 

“Just don’t try anything, and you’ll get to continue your vision quest, alright?” Stiles couldn’t help himself, there were so many vision based jokes he could make; so he’s an arsehole, so what? Deucalion had killed a lot of people, he deserved it. There was a sudden, subtle tension in the air after his words, though, and Stiles thinks that maybe he should watch what he says around serial killers and werewolves and all the other deadly creatures of the night that keep popping up over Beacon Hills. 

"We’ll be watching. You do anything wrong and we’ll know.” Stiles half threatened, half warned, hoping he could back it up. Derek was going to have to start answering his damn phone, or Stiles was going to go over there and kick his wolfy arse. 

“I’ll make up some tea, then.” The older man said, quirking an eyebrow before he turned and walked back down the alley. Stiles narrowed his eyes, watching the predatory way the man walked and definitely not staring at his arse, not a chance. 

Alright, maybe a little bit. But, psychotic and homicidal as the man was (hopefully past-tense was; hopefully he’s found a support group and now helps little old ladies cross the street) the way his jeans moulded to the shape of his backside and legs would probably make a nun take a second look – and though Stiles is definitely not a nun, he doesn’t take a second look. 

He’d have to have looked away in the first place in order to do that. 

-

The first thing he does, after putting a gps marker in his phone so he knows _exactly_ where Deucalion has been lurking, is head to Dereks loft. It’s closer than Scotts place and Derek’s probably in more danger from Deucalion than Scott if the alpha falls off the bandwagon. The foreign alpha has a weird fixation on Scotts true alpha status that might serve as some sort of twisted protection, unlike Dereks new, improved beta status. Scott finally answers his phone, just as Stiles gets impatient enough to invite himself into Dereks home. It’s deserted, though, no sign of life. 

“Derek?” He calls out, before Scott tells him through the phone, 

“He and Cora left. I don’t know where they’ve gone.” Stiles sags a bit; so much for pack. Not that he was ever in Dereks pack, but as far as Stiles knows, Isaac’s still here, and Scott hadn’t said anything about Peter. 

“Don’t suppose they left a forwarding address?” He quips, half heartedly, glaring around the wide space, before leaving. Slamming the door behind him is satisfying, and for a while, he forgets about Deucalion and the one hundred percent ominous way he’d emerged from the darkness and grime of a back alley near the broken down area of Beacon Hills. 

He remembers, abruptly, when he suddenly finds himself walking past boarded up windows, glass crunching underfoot, with no idea how he came to be there. He can’t remember where he left his jeep either. 

_This_ , he thinks as he turns down an alleyway and comes face to face with Deucalion, _is a problem._


End file.
